Something about the manner in which Sundridge had contemplated the window of the Ashwood Gallery while he waited for Brazier to reappear had seemed off.
As Jonathan had watched from the shadows of the narrow walkway it had dawned on him he might be visible as a reflection in the glass. The more he considered the possibility that he was the one under surveillance, the more unnerved he had become. He had been forced to abandon the scene.
He told himself it didn’t matter. Sooner or later Brazier would return to the Burning Cove Hotel. He would be able to find her again when he was ready to complete the commission. The hotel had excellent security but that security was not designed to keep out people like him, people who looked like they belonged in such exclusive, expensive surroundings.
What concerned him now was the possibility that the man’s arrival in Brazier’s life was not simply an inconvenient coincidence. The more Jonathan considered the matter, the more he wondered if the stranger was a bodyguard. That raised a host of unnerving questions. What had made Brazier conclude she needed protection?
A chill crackled through him as the obvious answer struck with the force of a bolt of lightning. The anonymous individual who was now in possession of the journal had managed to decipher the last entry, the one that named Vivian Brazier as the next commission.
Jonathan suddenly felt queasy. Light-headed.
He downed the last of the whiskey in an attempt to regain his nerve.
It took him a few minutes before he began to realize he could make the new development work in his favor. If his assumptions about the stranger were correct—if he was a bodyguard—then he had to be taken out first.
Jonathan went back into the cottage, poured another glass of whiskey, and began to pace. He had to come up with a plan. He had a lot to work with. Burning Cove was a small town and it was isolated on the coast. It didn’t have the resources of a big city. There was a lot of dark, empty land around the glittering core of the town.
He went into the kitchen and started rummaging through the cupboards and drawers.
He found the ice pick in the liquor cabinet. It would do nicely.
Chapter 33
Vivian saw the mountain of expensive pink leather suitcases and hatboxes piled on the tiled floor of the Burning Cove’s large lobby and stopped in her tracks.
“Oh, dear,” she said.
Nick halted, too. So did Rex.
They both looked at Vivian.
“What’s wrong?” Nick said.
She took a deep breath. “I recognize those suitcases.”
He glanced at the pink leather cases. “You do?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“Vivian.” Lyra appeared from behind the row of potted palms that shielded the front desk. She rushed across the lobby and threw her arms around Vivian. “Thank goodness. These people keep insisting that you are not registered here. I told them I was your sister but they still refused to admit you were on the premises. I think they were getting ready to chuck me out into the street.”
“What on earth are you doing here in Burning Cove?” Vivian asked. She returned the hug and then stepped back. “Are you all right? I called home this morning. Dorothy told me you had packed up and left town without letting anyone know where you were headed. I’ve been worried about you.”
“I’m here because you’re here. Where else would I go?” Lyra gave Nick a bright, vivacious smile. “Are you going to introduce me to your friend, Viv?”
“Nick Sundridge, my sister, Lyra Brazier,” Vivian said quietly. “And before you say another word, Lyra, let’s get you registered at the front desk. We’ll talk later. In private.”
“Good plan,” Nick said. He looked grim. “We definitely need a little privacy.”
* * *
“I can’t believe it,” Lyra said. She sounded awed as well as deeply impressed. “You and Mr. Sundridge are registered here as a couple on their honeymoon? You had better hope our parents don’t find out. Mother would probably faint. I can’t even imagine Father’s reaction. He might go so far as to strike Mr. Sundridge.”
“Mr. Sundridge will keep that possibility in mind if he happens to meet Mr. Brazier,” Nick said. “Thanks for the warning. It may give me time to duck.”
Vivian ignored him. She focused on Lyra.
“Our parents are accustomed to me doing unpredictable things,” she said.
“Here’s a news flash,” Lyra said. “A scandalous affair with an artist, turning down a respectable marriage proposal, and leaving town to pursue a photography career qualify as unpredictable. Posing as someone’s wife in order to check into one of the most exclusive hotels in California is far beyond unpredictable. I do believe you have topped your own record, Viv. You are no longer just a fast woman. You are downright wild. I’m proud to be your sister.”
She reached for one of the small, elegant sandwiches, which had been delivered to the villa a short time earlier, and took a large bite.
There was something very different in her sister’s demeanor, Vivian thought. It wasn’t a new trait, rather a return of the bold, adventurous spirit that had vanished years ago when Lyra had stepped into the role of the good daughter. The new old Lyra was a welcome sight but she had chosen an unfortunate time to rediscover her youthful daring and recklessness.
Satisfied that Lyra was, indeed, a member of the family, the hotel’s front desk had moved smoothly and efficiently to find a room in the main building overlooking the pool for the new guest. Lyra had directed the bellhops to transport the heap of pink luggage to Number 24. She had taken a few minutes to freshen up and change into a pair of fashionable trousers, stacked heel sandals, and a silk blouse. Then she had hurried to join Vivian and Nick at the villa.
By the time she arrived, Vivian had ordered afternoon tea with all the trimmings. Between the two of them, Lyra and Nick were making serious inroads on the sandwiches. Rex had managed to snag a couple, too.
“If Mother faints, it won’t be because of me,” Vivian said. “It will be because you returned Hamilton’s ring and called off the marriage. I still can’t believe you did that. Okay, I can believe it, but I’m still stunned. What on earth happened?”
“What do you think happened?” Lyra lounged back into a wicker chair and propped her heels on a hassock. “I discovered you were right. Hamilton is a lying, cheating rat. He would have made a dreadful husband.”
“You were so sure he was perfect for you.”
“I changed my mind when I found out he was having an affair.”
“Damn,” Vivian said. “I was afraid of that.”